


Missing

by indigo (indigo_angels)



Series: Fairy Dust [7]
Category: The A-Team (2010), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 08:50:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14352084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_angels/pseuds/indigo
Summary: Hannibal faces his greatest fears as a mission goes wrong.





	Missing

Hannibal slid out of the cab and pushed a bundle of notes the driver’s way, stepping onto the sidewalk in the quiet blackness of the suburban night. The neat little house in front of him wasn’t in darkness though, there was a light shining in what he knew was the kitchen and that sight filled him with equal parts dread and comfort. He slid his kit bag over an aching shoulder and headed resolutely up the driveway, his eyes flicking upwards to the two black windows above him and their sleeping occupants, the comfort sliding away and the dread building at the thought.

 

He never made it to the front door before it swung open for him and he realised that the person standing there waiting to greet him had probably been waiting for him, listening intently for any sign of his arrival. There wasn’t even time for a word of greeting before Hannibal was taken and hugged and for a minute he just let himself fall into that comfort, drink in the warmth and the strength he could get from it before it was all over and he was ushered into the dimly lit hallway.

 

“Go straight through to the kitchen,” Adele Baracus whispered to him. “Jonny’s got ears like I’ve never known, he’ll hear you and then we’ll never get him off again.”

 

Glancing longingly at the dark stairwell, Hannibal followed her nod and headed down the hallway, dumping his bag in a corner of the warm and bright kitchen. Adele followed him and led him onto a breakfast stool, pouring him a coffee and putting a huge slice of fruit cake in front of him before sitting on the stool next to his, turning to look at the side of his bent head.

 

“Tell me everything you can,” she whispered and Hannibal could hear the dread in her voice even through the catch of sadness.

 

“Most of it’s classified,” Hannibal mumbled across the top of his coffee and Adele nodded.

 

“Tell me what you can.”

 

There was a long pause. This was one of the parts that Hannibal had been dreading, not as much as what he’d have to do tomorrow, but still – it would be hard. He sighed, knowing it needed to be done and realising that he could treat this as a run-through, iron out any blips in his emotions before the morning when he needed to be absolutely perfect…

 

He took a deep breath and started. “Three weeks ago,” God – was it only three weeks? It felt like a lifetime already. “Three weeks ago, we were out on an op; simple search and retrieval. Face was positioned about a click away from the rest of us.” Face had been needed to provide long range sniper cover. It was a role he’d played time and time again, the bread and butter of their ops, so why was it this time it had all gone so horribly wrong? Hannibal cleared his throat and continued. “He didn’t shout up on the radio when he should have done so we called him and there was no answer. When we got to his position he was gone. We haven’t found a trace of him since.”

 

Hannibal’s throat tightened uncomfortably at this point and he had to stop, forcing a mouthful of too-hot coffee down as he blinked away all the moisture from his eyes. It was funny how easy it was to condense those three appalling weeks into a few bland sentences. How the stilted recount he’d provided Adele didn’t really show the desperate race they’d had across the desert once they’d known that Face was in trouble, or the horror they’d felt upon finding his position empty, his pack on the ground, dog tags and rifle hidden under a rock, streaks of blood, already old and brown, in the sand…

 

A warm hand landed on his arm and he shook himself from all the awful memories, turning to find Adele watching him, her own eyes swimming in tears. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered and Hannibal knew she meant it from the very bottom of her deep, deep, heart.

 

They sat in silence; Hannibal finished his coffee and picked at his cake until he felt ready to go on again.

 

“BA’s sorry he didn’t come over,” he stated, forcing himself to meet her concerned eyes. “But we all wanted to stay out there searching and we thought if one of us had to come back and talk to the kids it would be best if it were me.”  

 

“I understand,” Adele assured him.

 

The truth of the matter was that they wouldn’t have told the children at all, not yet, if it hadn’t been for the fact that they were already a week over due on their leave and Sophia, seven years old and every bit as astute as her mommy had been, marked the days off on her calendar while Face was away. Hannibal knew damn well that she would already be in a state because he was seven days late; he owed it to them both to tell them face to face what was going on.

 

“How’ve they been?”

 

It was question he didn’t really want to know the answer to, one he could guess for himself only too well, but he needed to know, knew that he could only afford to devote another couple of weeks to Face and then his priorities would have to switch to this side of the world…

 

The long sigh from Adele didn’t fill him with confidence and he felt his hands tighten reflexively around his coffee cup. “Well, Jonny’s not been too bad, you know how he flits about. There’s been a few bad dreams, some tears at bedtime, but it’s generally when Sophia’s upset.

 

Hannibal felt his heart ache. “Has she been really bad?” he whispered and Adele shrugged.

 

“A little cross at first, it’s not the first time you’ve been late back and she knows that. But as the week’s gone on…”

 

“What did you tell her?”

 

“That we didn’t know why you were late but that you’d been in touch and said you’d be home as soon as you could be.”

 

Hannibal nodded. “Has she asked about Face in particular?”

 

There was another long pause and Adele dropped her eyes to her top, playing with the button there while she thought. “No…” Hannibal could hear the uncertainty in her voice. “But I think she knows there’s something wrong, she looks so scared. I keep catching her watching me when the phone rings - I think she’s terrified she’ll end up on her own.”

 

Hannibal’s eyes filled up again and he reached out to take Adele’s hand. “She’ll never be that,” he whispered.

 

They sat in a pensive silence, Hannibal’s thoughts split between the sleeping children upstairs and the events happening without him half a world away until the clock in the hallway chimed for midnight.

 

Forcing out a smile, Hannibal squeezed Adele’s fingers then let go, pushing slowly to his feet. “I’d better get going, get some sleep.”

 

Adele rose with him. “You know you can stay here tonight.”

 

“I know, but I want to go home, just check it all out. I’ll be back before they’re up.”

 

Nodding Adele pulled her to him one more time. “I know I don’t know everything,” she whispered into his ear. “But I do know Face. Don’t you give up on him – he’ll do everything he possibly can to get home for his babies – for you – you know that, right?”

 

Hannibal found his eyes swimming yet again but nodded. He knew that too, knew what nightmares Face would be going through separated from them all like this – but then he’d seen first-hand how strong, determined men like Face could be rendered powerless by the worst that war could throw at them … sometimes the desire to get back home simply wasn’t enough, no matter how hot it burned.

 

____________________

 

The house was dark and silent and so alien to him in this state that he almost turned straight back around and headed to Adele’s. He didn’t though, flicking lights on, smiling at the familiar pictures stuck to the walls and cupboard doors and putting a load of washing on before heading upstairs in the hope of some rest. It was the sight of the bedroom that finally finished him off though. He and Face each had their own room, but they had knocked two doors into the en-suite so that they could move from one to the other without drawing attention to themselves. Since the repeal of DADT they didn’t have to be quite so careful, but Face was a private man and didn’t want to advertise something that might make life hard for his kids.

 

They tended to sleep in what was officially Hannibal’s room and it was there that he had wandered, stopping in the doorway and on seeing the bed, still rumpled from their last night and very early morning before deployment, Face’s clothes strewn across the carpet, the photograph of the four of them together that Face kept on the nightstand, the tears hit him hot and fast. He fell face down on the covers, trying hard to find a trace of the scent of the man he loved with all of his heart but too much time had passed since they’d last lain here together. All the pain and fear he’d repressed over the last three weeks of searching came churning out of him now and he sobbed like a broken-hearted child, face in the sheets, hands fisted in one of Face’s t-shirts, the reality that he may never see his love again, a cold, hard knife in his chest.

 

Slowly the tears ebbed away and he was left staring sightlessly at the green lights of the clock as they ticked through the night, all the time wanting his phone to ring, wanting, wishing, hoping beyond hope that his boys had found something even while he was here trying to prepare Face’s children for the fact that he might never come back to them.

 

It was light before he knew it, and he realised he must have finally fallen asleep at some point in the night. He quickly showered and shaved; dressed in clothes from the closet before switching everything he’d washed the night before into the drier. He was heading back tonight, could only spare three days away from the search for his boy but knew, one way or another, he’d be home again before the month was out, he just hoped that wasn’t to help the children grieve another lost parent.

 

Adele was up when he arrived back at her house but the children weren’t and so they sat in the kitchen, looking out on the neat little yard and drinking coffee as they waited for the inevitable scene to come.

 

It was a little after seven when footsteps on the stairs signalled that someone had risen and Adele, who looked like she’d had about as much sleep as Hannibal, caught his eye. “Jonny,” she said simply.

 

She was right. A few seconds later the kitchen door burst open and there stood Jonathon Peck, four years old, bright blue eyes and a wild mop of wavy hair, so blond it almost looked white in certain lights.

 

“Morning, baby!” Adele greeted him brightly. “You sleep okay?”

 

Jonny nodded, still looking half asleep as he stumbled into the kitchen. “Can I watch cartoons?” he asked.

 

“Hey,” Hannibal, sitting at the far side of the table, hadn’t been spotted yet, so he made sure he fixed his brightest smile in place and waited until Jonathan’s bleary eyes were focussed his way. “Good to see you, big fella!”

 

“Hannibal!”

 

Jonathan’s entire countenance changed at once and, like the firecracker he was, he launched himself across the room throwing himself into Hannibal’s lap with enough force to make the stool tip back a little. “Calm down!” Hannibal admonished even as he found himself laughing for the first time in three weeks, “You’ll have us both on the floor!”

 

It didn’t seem that Jonny was that bothered though; he just squirmed and wriggled around until his bony knees were pressed into Hannibal’s thigh and his wiry little arms, much stronger than they ever looked, were wrapped around his neck. Hannibal closed his eyes and pulled him close, desperately fighting back the tears again as he thought of this little boy’s father at this age, how life had seen him orphaned and alone… God, he hoped that history wasn’t going to repeat itself in this generation.

 

The hug was intense, but short lived as Jonathan quickly wriggled out of Hannibal’s arms again, twisting around but staying perched as he was on a strong thigh, his big blue eyes meeting Adele’s across the room. “Momma,” Hannibal had to smile at that tone that was so like Face at his wheedling best. “’Cause Hannibal’s here can we have pancakes for breakfast?”

 

Adele smiled at him. “I guess so!”

 

“Chocolate ones?”

 

This earned him a laugh, “Maybe,” Hannibal opened his mouth to say that the only reason he’d travelled so far was in the hope of a chocolate pancake, but then a noise at the door caught his ear and he turned, his smile vanishing as me met the dark, troubled eyes of Sophia as she stood holding onto the door frame.

 

Her long, dark hair was hanging over one shoulder in a single plait, stray tendrils escaping and wisping around her pale face. Her eyes were shaped just like Face’s wide and full on expression, but the dark chocolate she’d inherited from her mother. She was dressed in white pyjamas short sleeved and three quarter legged and she was easily the most perfectly beautiful child that Hannibal had ever seen in his life – even now, with fear written so plainly across her every feature.

 

“Hey, princess,” Hannibal greeted her, amazed, as he always was, by how much he’d missed her while they’d been away.

 

“Where’s daddy?” Sophia answered instead and Hannibal suddenly found himself lost for words.

 

It was the wrong thing to do, and in a second Sophia had turned and fled, her feet pounding back up the stairs and, passing Jonathan to Adele, Hannibal was after her, cursing himself for letting his quick brain get clogged up in emotion.

 

She’d gone to her room of course, the one she had here at Adele’s for all the times she stayed. It was very much like the one she had in her own house, decorated in the same style by the same four men who all loved her. BA had made both of her beds, cabin beds with crenellation making them look like castle walls. Murdock had then painted them with grey stones, over laid in pink roses. The fairy-tale castle theme wound its way around the walls, the curtains, the cupboards and the carpet to create a room that any seven year old girl the world over would be proud to have.

 

Sophia didn’t care about any of that now though, she was laid on her bed crying, her face buried in the duvet in a way so similar to Hannibal himself the night before, that he felt his heart break all over again. He went straight to her, lifting her up and bringing her, duvet and all, into his arms and onto his knee as he sank to the floor, holding her tightly as he did so.

 

“Sophia, don’t baby,” he whispered as he kissed her hair. “I’m not here to tell you that daddy’s not coming back, I’m not, don’t think that, please.”

 

That got her attention, but didn’t stop the sobs as she lifted her head and looked at him with huge, red rimmed eyes. “Where is he, then?” she asked again, the words barely discernable.

 

Hannibal sighed and closed his eyes, this was so not how it was all supposed to have happened. He opened up again and forced him to meet her penetrating stare.

 

“He’s missing,” he said gently. “Murdock and BA are out looking for him right now, but that’s why he’s not come home yet, because we don’t know where he is.”

 

Sophia thought about this, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Missing,” she repeated around a sob. “Like… lost?”

 

Hannibal nodded, “I guess so.”

 

Fresh tears sprang from Sophia’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks. “Have you phoned him?”

 

This brought out a dry smile from Hannibal – the sense of children’s solutions. “He didn’t have a phone with him when he went missing,” he explained. “He did have a comms link, like a radio, but I think it must be broken.”

 

“Why?”

 

Hannibal paused. “Because he’s not answered it.”

 

Sophia looked at him and Hannibal could see from the way her eyes filled with tears once more that she was far too aware of what else that might mean. She just nodded though and dropped her head, fingers winding into his t-shirt, letting him hold her tightly as she leant against his chest and cried.

 

Time passed at a crawl and the sobs slowly receded as Hannibal held and soothed her, but he didn’t move, knew that there would be more to come yet so waited, wanting to make this as good as he could for her.

 

“Are you going to find him?” she eventually asked, her slight frame still hitching with the force of her earlier sobbing.

 

“Oh baby,” Hannibal pulled her closer, kissing her head once more. “I’m gonna try. Murdock and BA are there now, and I’m going to go back tonight and we’re looking so hard for him, I promise you that, sweetheart, we’re looking everywhere.”

 

Sophia looked up at that, her eyes boring into Hannibal, fear and hope burning deep inside her in equal parts. “But are you going to find him?” she asked again and Hannibal held her stare.

 

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly, his heart thumping in his chest.

 

He’d expected more tears at that, but Sophia just turned her head so her cheek was resting on Hannibal’s chest and sat silently, her breathing slowly settling back to normal.

 

“The pancakes are ready.”

 

Hannibal looked at Jonathan standing in the doorway, his face serious as he studied the tear stained Sophia in Hannibal’s lap, the chocolate sauce around his mouth evidence of the few he’d already sampled.

 

“Great!” Hannibal forced him a smile. “I’m starving.”

 

Jonny didn’t move though, just kept his eyes on his sister. “What’s up with Soph?” he asked loudly.

 

Hannibal pulled her closer when she didn’t say anything. “She just misses daddy, that’s all.”

 

Jonathan looked at him. “Is daddy coming home soon?”

 

Sophia twitched in Hannibal’s lap.

 

“I hope so, Jon. I really do.”

 

That seemed to be enough for Jonathan and with a final nod he was out of the door and thundering back down the stairs, his yell of, “Pancakes!” enough to bring another smile to Hannibal’s face.

 

Still Sophia didn’t move, her weight was warm and comforting in Hannibal’s lap and they sat, still and silent, as the smell of pancakes drifted up the stairs.

 

“Alright?” Hannibal asked her gently.

 

There was a long silence and Hannibal waited. He knew that Sophia, like her father as well, needed time to make sure her words said exactly what she wanted them to. “If daddy stays lost,” she started, quiet and nervous. “Will we stay with you, or go to Grandma’s?”

 

Hannibal’s heart twisted painfully as he wondered what on earth he could say to that. Was it even right? This life they led? This pain they put her through? Jonathan as well? Was it time to bring it to an end instead of making Sophia live like this, with the shadow of being left as an orphan hanging over her every single day? He looked down to find her staring up at him, her eyes scrutinising every aspect of his expression and something inside him just snapped.

 

“He’s not staying lost,” he growled, pulling her to him even more tightly, burying his face in her apple-scented hair as his own tears started again. “He’s not and I’m bringing him home to you. You hear me, Soph? I promise you, I’m bringing him home. I am.”

 

Sophia’s arms wrapped around him as she sobbed afresh and they sat there together, wrapped in their love for each other and the man who meant so much to them both as downstairs Jonathan stared longingly at the pile of rapidly cooling pancakes.

 

_______________________________

 

 

Hannibal stalked across the sand-dusted runway, his eyes narrowed, his brown creased, the chill of the desert night nothing to the cold fear in his heart.

 

He’d made a total and utter mess of his attempts to tell the children, in a calm and rational manner, that Face was missing and might not make it home again. His cheeks still burned in shame when he remembered his words to Sophia, the empty promises he’d made her that might destroy her trust in him for the rest of her life. What had he been thinking? Even now he couldn’t understand what had happened back there. He’d just been so desperate to make things better for her, to get that horrible fear off her face that his mouth had run away with him, not something he was used to experiencing.

 

So now what? If the worst did happen and Face didn’t come back to them, now Sophia would be faced with the loss of her beloved father and the harsh reality that Hannibal had lied to her.

 

Somehow he’d managed to make an awful situation even worse.

 

He was a fool.

 

The worst of it though was that Sophia hadn’t even been convinced. Seven years old and already she knew that adults lied to children. Where had she learnt that? Face was always scrupulously honest with her, hurt has he had been by a childhood of lies and false promises, so where had she picked up that bit of hard fact? It didn’t matter anyway, she knew Hannibal had made a promise he couldn’t keep, and that was all that mattered. There had been a strange tension between the two of them since that scene in her bedroom, as if she was trying to work him out and couldn’t quite grasp it all.

 

Hannibal had taken them both to school before he left. Jonathan, with the resilience of infancy, had been fine, dragging Hannibal around his Kindergarten classroom by the hand, showing him the sand, the water tray, his painting of a nine-legged spider on the wall, the chickens outside and finally the very best thing about school, the jungle gym. Then he’d run off to play, and Hannibal, with Sophia clinging to his hand, had gone to speak to his teacher.

 

After that, he’d taken Sophia to her class and that had been a very different situation altogether.

 

Everyone stopped as they walked in, a little late after Jonathon’s tour, and Sophia had flushed self-consciously. Hannibal squeezed her hand as she pulled away under the scrutiny of her classmates and went to sit in her seat but really he wanted to hug her, scoop her up in his arms and tell her he was sorry for lying, that he’d never meant to make it all worse. He’d had a quiet conversation at the front of the class with Sophia’s teacher, explaining the situation and the fact that Sophia might be a little upset over things. Mrs Blackberry, a veteran of the base school had, without doubt, seen many such scenarios over her years, but still her eyes filled with tears as Hannibal explained Face’s predicament. He had been strangely touched, but wished things had been a little more low key as he’d been aware of Sophia watching them as she pretended to do her math, her brow creasing in worry as she noticed Mrs Blackberry’s concern.

 

There had been time only for a quick wave as he’d left then, twenty five pairs of eyes following him out of the room but he couldn’t remember ever feeling as powerless to help Sophia as he had at that moment. He’d rung Adele who reassured him that she’d be there at the end of the day, but that the school would call her if there were any issues that sprung up in the interim. She told him he’d done a good job, that Face would have been proud of him but Hannibal didn’t answer; Adele had no idea what he’d said when they’d been alone upstairs, the mess he’d made of it. How Face would have handled it Hannibal couldn’t have imagined, but he just knew that the kid would have done a much better job – somehow he was simply tuned in to what the kids needed from him, something Hannibal could never even hope to emulate.

 

Back in the present, his eyes flicked up as a member of the ground crew saluted him. He didn’t know the kid’s name but he’d seen him around, knew he was aware of the situation with Face so he nodded and returned his own quick salute. “Any news on Lieutenant Peck?” he asked sharply.

 

He knew the answer before the words came, had seen the way the kid’s eyes had fallen as he so clearly wished that he wasn’t going to be the one to deliver the disappointment. “No, sir. Sorry, sir. Captain Murdock has been out again tonight, he’s on his way back in right now.”

 

Hannibal just nodded again and kept on walking. He hadn’t really anticipated anything different, but still – it was an idle hope that while he’d been air-bound and out of the loop, some amazing, miraculous news had come in about his boy. He needed to get to BA, have a full update… and maybe get some of this guilt off his chest and tell the big guy what he’d said to Sophia.

 

BA was sitting on the side of his cot, running a hand through his hair looking tired and rumpled and obviously exhausted when Hannibal walked in.

 

“Hey, Hannibal…” he lay down in his clothes. “I heard you were back. How’d it all go?”

 

Looking at the way that BA was obviously fighting to keep his eyes open, Hannibal decided against revealing the full version of events and instead opted on the sanitised, quick version. “Alright. They were all upset, but your momma says hello and to tell you she understands why you stayed here.”

 

BA nodded, stretching out until his back popped, but Hannibal could see from the look in his eye that he knew a lot had been missed out of that particular story. “No news at all then?” he asked quickly, desperate to know but also very keen on keeping BA from probing more about his visit to the children.

 

“No. Sorry, man… We’ve been out every day, it’s like he just vanished…” he shook his head, “I don’t get it.”

 

Hannibal sat heavily on his own bunk, suddenly feeling defeated and worn down. It was true what BA had said; it was just like Face had disappeared into thin air. Usually when men went missing there was some kind of trail or signs of a struggle. A body eventually, or boasts from the insurgents about the soldier they had captured and what they were doing with him… But with Face there had been nothing, absolutely nothing at all and their informants were just as clueless as they were.

 

“Hannibal…?” it was the uncertainty in BA’s voice that caught Hannibal’s attention, had him worrying what on earth the big guy was going to say.

 

“What?”

 

A deep sigh. “How much longer are they gonna let us do this for?” there was a definite edge of fear in his voice. “What if we don’t find him? What then? We gonna have to just _leave_ him _?_ ”

 

Hannibal scrubbed at his face until the terror those words had provoked receded enough to think. “Two more weeks,” his eyes met BA’s. “Then we’re back on active service, although I think they will let us stay in the area.” _So we can keep looking_ – the words remained unsaid.

 

He knew it wouldn’t be that though, could never be that simple. If Face was still missing after two more weeks he would have to go back and see the children again. He knew Face’s wishes, knew that he wanted Hannibal to take over their care if anything ever happened to him and as their guardian he would have things to arrange, Grandparents to speak to, even in the long months before any legal decisions could be made about Face’s fate and eventually – that of his children.

 

He lay down on his own cot, not even bothering to take his boots off and stared up at the canvas ceiling above him. How had they come to this? He should be laid here with the man he loved, wrapped up together safe and warm and instead he was alone, as lost in his own way as Face was.

 

______________

 

He dreamed of Face as he often did. This time he was in the kitchen of their house back in the States, washing dishes in the sink and shouting to Face who was in the garden and refusing to listen to him. He was aware of his own name being called in return and for a moment he was confused, stuck in the fog of reality and slumber, and then he realised it was Murdock calling him.

 

His eyes were open in a second and he swung himself upright on the bed, blinking through the light that was shining in his eyes. “A drone took it!” Murdock was saying over and over. “The Intel boys have only just seen it, but they knew about Face so they called me! What do you think, Hannibal? You think it’s him?”

 

It took a long moment for Hannibal to blink his eyes into focus and as he took the single sheet of A4 he could hear BA grumbling at Murdock to calm down, the get the paper out of Hannibal’s face, to let them have a second to wake up. Murdock ignored him, instead chirping on about the picture now in Hannibal’s fingers and Hannibal tuned them both out, intent only at studying what was in his hand and keeping his hope down to an acceptable level.

 

It wasn’t much to go on. An image from a drone that had been flying high overhead looking for the surface to air missiles that the insurgents moved around with annoying ease. Whoever had spotted the tiny blip in the sands had done a good job, zooming in as much as they could to produce a very blurry image of a figure laid in the dirt. Hannibal’s heart was pounding as he examined it; plain desert toned clothes, just like the ones that Face had been wearing when he disappeared, no pack, nothing discernable of any kind just – the thrumming in his chest intensified – “That looks like Face’s Keffiyeh…”

 

His words cut through BA and Murdock’s continued squabbling making Murdock round on him in an instant. “I know! That’s what I thought! You think it’s him, bossman? Do you?”

 

“Them things all look the damn same,” BA groused, leaning over to look at the picture in Hannibal’s fingers. “Face got me one, looks just like this as well…”

 

Hannibal knew that, knew how common they were out here but even so… But then if it _was_ Face, then it wasn’t good, him laid out in the sun like this, right in the open. If they had found him, they may well be too late. “You got the coordinates for this?” he barked, pushing to his feet and letting BA study the picture. Murdock nodded eagerly. “Well, let’s go. We can be ready to start searching the second it gets light.”

 

________________________

 

They were, skimming out of the FOB as the sky started to wash a silver blue from the east. No one spoke much, BA was clinging onto his harness like he did every single time he had to fly, Hannibal riding shotgun with the single image of hope clutched in his fingers. Even Murdock was silent, no arias, no whooping, no running commentary in some weird European accent… they all knew what they were going to here, they may very well find their teammate, but it might be in circumstances none of them wanted.

 

“Over there.” Murdock’s voice broke through the sombre silence and all eyes fell on the bare expanse of sand to their left.

 

“There’s nothin’ there…” It was BA who spoke the words currently screaming around Hannibal’s head.

 

“That the right place, Captain?”

 

Murdock frowned as he checked his instruments. “Spot on, sir. Should just be over there…”

 

They circled around, and there was, undoubtedly, no one there.

 

“How old are them images?”

 

“Twelve hours as of now.”

 

“Bring her down, Murdock. Close as you can without disturbing the area, I want to check it out.”

 

Murdock obliged, and BA and Hannibal jumped out, guns at the ready as they ran across the dusty sands, Murdock already back in the air and covering them from above.

 

There was nothing there but footsteps, unusual enough to find out here, a single set winding off towards the distant mountains.

 

“What do you think?” BA asked, his keen eyes constantly checking their surroundings as Hannibal bent over the dirt.

 

At first there was nothing but a long sigh as his answer, then Hannibal slowly rose to his feet. “I say we have nothing to lose, so we follow them.” BA grunted his agreement and they set off at a steady jog following the only crumbs of hope they’d seen.

 

They kept in touch with Murdock as they jogged, and Hannibal was aware that the pilot only had fuel for another fifteen minutes of air support. After that he’d have to return to base to refuel, leaving them here without backup or transport. There was nothing else for it, however, there was no way that Hannibal was leaving without finding what was at the end of this trail.

 

“We’re getting close to those rocks…” BA’s voice cut in at his elbow.

 

Hannibal knew that, knew that rocks provided hiding places for all kinds of dangers. He also knew that footsteps would be invisible on the hard packed dirt and he was right, the second they left the softer sand behind them, their trail vanished and they were left standing looking at the inhospitable terrain all around them.

 

“Now what, Hannibal?”

 

“Five minutes, sir…”

 

Hannibal wished they’d been able to get a chopper with infra-red, it would have made the job of searching these rocks much, much easier, but in his mind there was no dilemma over what happened next. “We start searching,” he informed BA. “You take the perimeter, and Murdock?”

 

“Sir?”

 

“Go back and refuel. Keep this channel open.”

 

There was a pause, Murdock didn’t want to leave them out here unprotected and vulnerable, but he knew that unless he went, they’d all be stranded. “Sir…”

 

The chopper tipped in the sky in a final salute and then wheeled around and headed for the horizon; it was a long time until its engine vanished from their hearing.

 

Hannibal searched on in silence while BA kept watch above him. The sun was rising high and it was getting hotter by the minute, but Hannibal diligently worked through the search pattern in his head. It was crazy, they’d had no real proof that the figure in the picture _was_ Face but in his heart Hannibal knew, and this was the closest they had come to finding his boy since that awful day three weeks ago, he wasn’t going until he found an answer – either way.

 

“We got company, boss… north east.”

 

BA’s voice in his earpiece cut through Hannibal’s pensive silence and he scrambled up the side of a rock to look in the direction he’d been told. There they were, a tell-tale cloud in the distance that marked the start of a caravan of jeeps, they had about ten minutes until they were in deep trouble.  

 

“We need to find cover, man.”

 

That was true. The insurgents had no doubt seen the chopper and were coming to investigate what it had been doing. If they hid now, with a bit of luck they would soon go again once they saw that there was no one here. “Okay. Get to lower ground, we’ll-” Hannibal had been scrambling down from his rock perch when his eyes had drifted downwards, glancing into a crack in the rocks and he froze, scrambling back up again, yanking at his torch on his belt as he stared into the blackness once more.

 

“Hannibal?”

 

“Hang on, hang on…” Hannibal was twisting this way and that, given up on his elusive torch for now. “I thought I saw something…” He thought he’d saw fingers. Deep down in the fissure of the rock, a quick glimpse of pale fingers illuminated in the darkness for a moment by the light falling from above. But now he wasn’t so sure, he couldn’t find that same angle again, it must have been his desperate imagination, playing tricks on him. His heart sank and he let out a long breath, he was wasting time.

 

“No, it’s fine BA I just thought I saw-” And there they were again, just at that particular angle Hannibal could see them, plainly this time, fingers, and a hand, laid in the crack of the rock. “Cover me!” he hissed instantly dropping to the ground at the side of the boulder, “Tell me how much time we’ve got, there’s someone here!”

 

“Eight minutes,” was all BA replied, professionalism taking over even though Hannibal could hear the hope in his voice.

 

Right underneath the boulder, hidden by an overhang, there was a wide but low cave, not more than a foot high. Hannibal lay down on his belly and edged forward, cautious of snakes and scorpions as he felt with his hand, his heart hammering when he scuffed over the treads of a boot.

 

“Is it him?” BA’s anxious voice cut into his thoughts as Hannibal stretched even further forward.

 

“I don’t know…” The figure hadn’t moved, not even when Hannibal had latched his fingers around the toe of the boot and started pulling and that meant that he still wasn’t sure if he even _wanted_ his find to be Face. He pulled harder, dragging the unresisting body towards him, managing to grab an ankle, then another boot, then filthy trousers, then he was able to edge back, tugging the figure out after him recognising the boots, the fatigues, the empty thigh holster and finally, as he sat back on his haunches, the inch of Calvin Klein underwear that was visible over the waist band of his combats.

 

“It’s him.”

 

“Is he alive?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Six minutes, Hannibal.”

 

Hannibal pulled the figure the rest of the way out from under the rock and his heart tightened in fear. Face was a mess, blood in his hair, his face battered and beaten and burnt by the sun. He was only dressed in a long sleeved t-shirt and combats, his trusty keffiyeh wrapped around his head in an attempt to keep the sun off, but his t-shirt was soaked in blood, all along the left side and from where it had ridden up, Hannibal could see his skin, scraped and bruised, was crusted in blood as well.

 

“Face!” he turned him over, one hand patting his cheek gently, even while the other groped desperately for a pulse in the dirty folds of the keffiyeh. “Come on, kid… you there?”

 

There was nothing, not a twitch from the man in front of him and all Hannibal could hear was a voice in his own head chanting, “Too late, too late, too late…” over and over again.

 

“Not too late,” he muttered, using both hands to tug the checked cotton out of the way as he leant closer in. “Come on Face, we need you here. Come on, come on…” And there, at last, the answer to all his prayers, a little fluttery pulse against his fingers, gamely hanging on against everything. The relief was so strong it almost wiped him out and he actually swayed, putting a hand out on the rock where Face had sheltered to steady himself. “He’s alive,” he breathed into his comm unit and could hear BA’s whispered prayer of thanks in reply.

 

“He needs a medic,” Hannibal reported, rooting in his pack for a bag of saline solution.

 

“We aint got time,” BA’s voice was controlled but concerned. “They’re almost on us, we try to move him, they'll see us then we done for. We gotta lie low.”

 

Hannibal swore under his breath. “He’s in a bad way!” he hissed. “He needs help!” Had they been through all of this, had _Face_ been through all of this, just to die before they could get him some help? Absolutely not.

 

“We’re out numbered,” BA reported in his ear. “There’ve got to be thirty men down there, we’re never gonna be able to take them all out.”

 

Hannibal swore again.

 

“I’ll cover you,” BA’s voice was back. “Keep them off your tail while you move out with him?”

 

But that would be suicide for BA and Hannibal knew it. “No,” he answered sharply. “There’s nothing else for it, we go to ground here, hope to hell they don’t find us and-”

 

He broke off as machine gun fire suddenly exploded in the air around him, throwing himself over Face without touching him, wary of making whatever unknown injuries he had any worse. “What the fuck, BA! How’d they get so damn close without us seeing?”

 

But it wasn’t BA that answered. “Yeeeeeee-ha! Murdock Rescues at your service! Someone here call for a med-evac?” Another burst of gunfire split the air and Hannibal abandoned trying to find the bag of saline for hauling Face’s battered body into his arms.

 

“Can you land?” he barked, already checking out BA’s position in his peripheral vision.

 

“Right in front of you, Bossman. Better make it quick though, them jeeps look like they’re full of angry bees and we’re stealing their honey!”

 

“I’m on my way.”

 

“Covering you, Hannibal!”

 

Hannibal gritted his teeth and rose into a crouch. “Sorry, kid…” he muttered as he started running, painfully aware how he was jolting Face’s body as he thundered over the terrain. All around him he could hear gunfire, from BA and Murdock who were covering him, and from the insurgents who were fairly keen on stopping them from leaving whether they knew what was going on or not. It seemed to take an age but finally he was there, scrambling into the back of the chopper with Face in his arms even as Murdock started inching off the ground.

 

“BA!” he yelled as Murdock rose higher.

 

“I got him,” and then there was much swearing and scrambling as BA hoisted himself aboard, Hannibal’s hand in his pack hauling him in when he looked like slipping out again. The doors were swung shut and then, with an ear splitting howl from Murdock, they were on their way home.

 

________________________

 

Hannibal walked swiftly down the corridor, brown paper bag clutched in his hand, his nose wrinkling in distaste at the strong aroma of disinfectant that seemed to cling to everything around him. You’d think after all the time they spent in hospitals that he’d get used to it, but he didn’t, not ever, and he hated it – it just brought back so many awful memories.

 

This latest incident with Face only added to his portfolio of traumatic hospital visits. They’d landed at the field hospital and Face had been whisked away from them, straight into triage for an assessment and then into surgery to try and repair the knife wound to his side. It had been a long and stressful wait; the knife wound had probably been inflicted the day he’d gone missing, three long weeks ago, and had started healing – badly. It needed cleaning and stitching, inside and out as the blade had nicked his spleen and he’d been slowly bleeding internally for all this time.

 

Ideally Face should have waited for the surgery, there was no guarantee that he would pull through as he was so weak; he was severely dehydrated and malnourished, had a cut on his head that had needed re-opening and stitching, his ankle was broken, three ribs were cracked and he was covered in a host of other superficial cuts and bruises. But in the end, but the medics had no choice in the matter, his blood pressure was dropping at an alarming rate and he simply would have died within twenty four hours without it.

 

The team sat in the waiting area on hard and uncomfortable chairs and watched the ticking of the clock as the time whiled on and the day slipped away from them. Eventually, the surgeon had wandered out of theatre to find Hannibal, Murdock and BA waiting for him and the second he’d smiled at them, Hannibal had known that he would be able to keep his promise to Sophia after all.

 

He’d called home soon after that. It was early morning back in the States and it was Sophia who had actually answered the phone. Hannibal had had to force his words out through the tightness of his throat the second he’d heard her voice, making her sound so very young across the miles that separated them. “Hey, princess.”

 

There was a pause, one that Hannibal could only partially attribute to the satellite phone and then, “Hi Hannibal. Where are you?” there was no missing the anxiety in her tone.

 

“Still at work,” they never discussed the ‘wheres’, “And guess what? We found your daddy!”

 

“You did?!”

 

Hannibal had to blink his tears away.

 

“We did and he’s fine, he’s coming home real soon, sweetheart and he’s going to be so excited to see you!” There was no answer on the other end of the phone, just a snuffle and a few muffled words. “Sophia?” Hannibal frowned, “You there, baby?”

 

“Hannibal?” This was Adele and her tone was tense. “What’s happened?”

 

“We found him! And he’s okay, he’s in theatre still but they’re just stitching him up and he’s going to be fine!”

 

There was a pause.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

For a moment Hannibal was stunned and wondered if Adele had simply misheard him. “Sure? Well, yes… the doc says they think so, I mean, he’s still pretty bashed up but…” he frowned, “What’s that noise?” he had to raise his voice over the racket on the other end of the phone.

 

“It’s the children,” the distraction was clear in Adele’s voice now, “I need to see to them. Call when he’s out of danger, and it might be best to speak to me next time.”

 

Hannibal frowned as the line went dead and he was left holding the phone with the echoes of the children’s tears ringing in his ears. He looked up to find BA watching him, close enough to have heard it all and he put the phone down on the counter, shaking his head. “I don’t understand…” he admitted helplessly.

 

BA sighed. “She’s lookin’ out for the babies, that’s all.”

 

“But,” Hannibal was literally stunned. “I thought they’d be thrilled. I thought they’d all be _happy._ ”

 

“They are man!” BA clapped a huge hand on his shoulder. “You never cried when you’re happy? They’re so happy they just don’t know what to do.”

 

Hannibal looked at him. “And your momma?”

 

There was an awkward shrug. “She just don’t want to see their hopes raised for nothin’…”

 

Silence.

 

“He’s not going to die.” Hannibal had to force the words out through his gritted teeth, but BA just hugged him in.

 

“I know he’s not, but they don’t, they can’t see him; they don’t know him like we do. It’ll be fine, they know he’s with us, as soon as he wakes up he can call them and then they’ll believe. Alright?”

 

Hannibal nodded ‘yes’ but he felt like saying ‘no’. He’d only tried to make everything right and he’d ended up doing the wrong thing again? How the hell had that happened?

 

~~~

 

Even now, back in the corridor of the Brooke Army Medical Centre in Texas, Hannibal can’t believe the mess he’d made, yet again, of his heartfelt attempts to make Sophia and Jonathan feel better. He shook his head, it had been all he could think about that long night as he sat and waited for Face to wake up.

 

BA and Murdock had gone to get some sleep and report in to the General, and Hannibal had sat, alternating between revisiting his conversation with Sophia and Adele and cataloguing each and every injury on his boy, wondering what horrors he’d been through during the past three weeks. Every time he thought back the sounds of the children sobbing, every time he came up with an even more appalling scenario for Face’s injuries, the sickness in his stomach churned a little bit more.

 

Eventually, just as he was worried he might actually vomit with the stress of it all, Face had stirred, twisting uncomfortably in the bed, his expression filled with pain and Hannibal had leapt to his feet.

 

“Hey, baby, I’m here, don’t fret, it’s okay, you’re okay…” He glanced over his shoulder, assured himself that they were alone and then reached out to stroke Face’s cheek, just above his three-week beard.

 

It took Face a long while to fight to the surface of the pain and the drugs and the trauma, but eventually he was blinking against the harsh lights, his hand flailing for Hannibal’s even as Hannibal touched a little more morphine into his drip.

 

“John?” the name was little more than a gasp, but it still filled Hannibal with the most delicious warmth as he grabbed Face’s hand.

 

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m here and you’re safe, just try to rest now, okay? We’ve got you.”

 

Face seemed to be having trouble focussing on Hannibal’s face and his grip on the fingers that Hannibal had given him was already slackening but he fought on, determined to ask the question that was burning in his mind. “How… long…?”

 

Hannibal frowned. “It’s okay,” he reached up and smoothed dirty, matted hair away from Face’s forehead. “Just go back to sleep, baby, you need to rest, to heal.”

 

But Face wasn’t to be dissuaded, his eyes opened wider and his grip strengthened. “How long?” he repeated, the beeping of the heart monitor an audible signal of distress.

 

Leaning forward, Hannibal kissed his forehead, wondering if he was going to mess this up like he had with the kids. “Three weeks…” he murmured gently. “But it’s okay, they’re okay, they know you’re safe now, it’s fine.”

 

Face’s eyes filled with tears and his hand went lax in Hannibal’s. “Three weeks…” he repeated, the heartbreak clear in his voice and just at the moment that the nurse bustled in to check on him, he gave into the drugs and the exhaustion and slipped back into the blackness.

 

He hadn’t woken again until he was about to be taken onto the air ambulance for his transfer back home. Hannibal had pulled a few strings and arranged to travel with him while Murdock and BA were already on their way to wait for them in Texas. The medical staff had been fitting an inflatable splint around his ankle in order to immobilise it for the flight when Hannibal had seen two blue eyes blinking at him from over the top of an oxygen mask. He smiled and stepped forward, knowing that Face could see they were in company.

 

“Hey kid,” he touched a bare shoulder gently. “Good to see you awake, you doing okay?”

 

Face only blinked at him again and Hannibal watched as those expressive eyes flicked around, taking in the scene around him before a bruised and scraped arm reached up to tap ineffectively at the oxygen mask. Hannibal, realising what he wanted, stretched out and gently lifted it away, leaning down to hear Face’s words.

 

“Home?” he almost breathed and Hannibal nodded.

 

“Brooke. Adele’s going to bring the kids down soon as she can.”

 

Face’s eyes widened at that and his heart monitor started beeping madly, Hannibal pulled back, instantly worried as a nurse dashed forward, checking Face’s vitals and administering him a sedative through his drip. His eyes soon fluttered closed and the instruments all settled and Hannibal was left wondering what the hell he’d done wrong this time.

 

The next time he’d woken he’d already been installed in his private room at Brooke AMC and Hannibal was dozing in a chair at his side, waiting for Murdock to come and take over his vigil. He was totally oblivious to Face’s heightened state of consciousness until a dry voice croaked, “Shit, boss, do I look as bad as you?”

 

~~~

 

Hannibal smiled at the memory as he pushed Face’s door open to find him struggling with his broken ribs and stitched up side to pull a t-shirt on over his head and his smile vanished. 

 

“Jesus, kid!” he dropped the paper bag on the bedside table and grabbed at the uncooperative t-shirt. “You trying to pop _all_ your stitches?”   

 

Face was pale and obviously in pain but managed to blow an annoyed huff of air Hannibal’s way. “No, I’m putting my t-shirt on! You’ve been ages; they’ll be here any minute!”

 

“They’ll be here in half an hour,” Hannibal countered, “And I told you that if you insisted on getting dressed then you’d wait for me!”

 

There was no answer from Face, his easy acquiescence a sign of the pain he was in and Hannibal shook his head. “What am I ever going to do with you?”

 

Together, they managed to ease the t-shirt on over bandages and broken bones and Hannibal rearranged the pillows so that Face could lie back while still sitting up, his breath fast and shallow, his skin clammy and his eyelids pulled tight over his eyes. Hannibal watched him for a moment, his brow furrowed in concern. “You need some oxygen?” A quick shake of the head was his answer so instead he sat and waited, watching Face carefully, his own fingers playing gently over a tight fist.

 

Eventually, muscle by muscle, Face relaxed, the pain receding back to an acceptable level and his eyes cracked open to look over at Hannibal. “Don’t you dare say, ‘I told you so’,” he whispered dryly.

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Hannibal reached out to snag the brown paper bag. “And you don’t need me to. You know you should have waited for me.”

 

Face just huffed again as Hannibal edged closer to him. “You sure you want to do this? They won’t mind if you don’t feel up to it.”

 

Hot blue eyes were flashed his way. “Of course I want to do it,” he snapped. “It’s bad enough they have to see me all banged up and in a hospital bed – I don’t need to look like Grizzly Adams at the same time.”

 

Hannibal let the anger wash over him as he lined up shaving foam and razors on the bed, before snagging a towel off the chair and settling himself carefully at Face’s hip. He knew his lover was in pain and worried about the children’s reaction to seeing him hurt, he certainly wasn’t going to add to Face’s stress by arguing with him over nothing. “Okay then,” he said simply. “Sit nice and still for me.”

 

For a second, a fraction of a second, it looked as if Face were about to insist he could do it himself, but then he deflated slightly and slumped back into the pillows, closing his eyes and letting Hannibal rub the foam into his beard.

 

Silence fell over them both as Hannibal worked, gently soaping and shaving, then wiping with the towel and starting on another patch. He pulled back when he’d finsished, running a critical eye over his handiwork before glancing up to find Face watching him carefully. He flashed a smile, “Perfect, kid,” but to his surprise Face didn’t smile back.

 

His own smile faded as Face held his eyes, then cautious fingers found his over the duvet. “I’m sorry. John…”

 

Hannibal took Face’s hand and squeezed it gently. “For needing a bit of help shaving? Oh, come on Face, you remember that time I had dysentery?” Hannibal shook his head, “What you did for me then was above and beyond any call of duty…” he tried to smile again but still Face resisted, shaking his own head slightly.

 

“No,” he whispered, “not that. For nearly ruining it all…” Hannibal frowned. “If you hadn’t found me, if I’d been killed then-”w

 

“No.”

 

Hannibal’s single word of interruption almost shook the room and he tried to soften it with a hand on Face’s cheek, a gentle smile pulling at his lips. “Please don’t,” he asked tenderly. “We know what could happen. You did all you could to guard against it, all you could to save yourself.” He shook his head, “I don’t need to watch you beat yourself up about it after spending three weeks searching for you and dreading the worst.”

 

Face’s expression fell and Hannibal’s heart fell with it, but before they could get into a round of agonising self-recrimination, Hannibal’s mobile beeped in his pocket.

 

“That will be them,” he said, quickly gathering up the shaving supplies. “Murdock said they’d text when they got here.”

 

Face instantly straightened up, shuffling back on the bed, hitching himself higher up on the pillows and trying to make his drip less obvious. “Am I okay?” he asked anxiously. “I’m not going to freak them out?”

 

“You’re perfect,” Hannibal reassured him, kissing him quickly. “You could look like the aquamaniac and they wouldn’t care, they’d just be so damn pleased to see you.”

 

Face frowned, but couldn’t answer for the sounds of footsteps coming down the corridor.

 

Hannibal found himself holding his breath as the door swung open and there was Murdock, Jonathan riding on his hip, his wide eyes scanning around the room. “Daddy!” Finding himself with an armful of squirming child, Murdock dropped Jonathan to the floor and no sooner were his sneakers on the vinyl then he was bounding towards Face’s bed.

 

“Careful,” Hannibal warned quietly, knowing how many stitches Face had in his side, but Jonathan was on the good side and Face held an arm out to him, scooping him in as he scrambled up onto the bed, throwing himself on Face with abandonment.

 

In the doorway, BA stood with a nervous looking Sophia still clutching his arm and Face lifted his wet eyes from Jonathan’s curls to meet her soulful expression. They didn’t speak, but Hannibal watched in relief as a smile flickered over Sophia’s face and then she was off, rushing to his side, only to freeze just out of reach, staring intently at his t-shirt. “Does it hurt?” she asked quietly and Face shrugged.

 

“Not so much now, come here…”

 

She didn’t need a second invite and closed the gap between them, leaning into his reaching arm as he pulled her close, sliding her up and onto the bed next to him with the help of Hannibal’s hand.

 

Three heads bent together on the bed, Jonathan’s blond curls, Sophia’s dark waves and Face, his caramel hair clean and soft again after the tender bed bath Hannibal had given him the night before. There was more than one set of sniffing and the three men in the room walked out, talking loudly about vending machines while giving Face his privacy.

 

For a long moment no one spoke or moved, they just hugged, but then Sophia pulled back, almost sitting on Face’s knee, his arm tight around her she lifted a tear stained face to look at him. “I missed you,” she said quietly.

 

Forcing a smile out through his own tears, Face squeezed her waist. “I missed you as well, both of you,” he smiled down at Jonathan who was wriggling up onto his knees. “But I’m back now and in another week I’ll be home and then you’ll be sick of me before long!”

 

Jonathan laughed. “I’ll bring you Tommy’s new dog round to see!”

 

Face’s eye widened. “Tommy has a dog?”  


“Yeah! It’s this big!” he held his arms wide. “And it’s called…” his eyes flicked to Sophia, “What’s it called, Soph?”

 

“Taz,” Sophia replied. “It’s awful, an ugly dog. And it bites.”

 

“I don’t like the sound of that!” Face interjected but Jonathan just giggled.

 

“No, it bites _toys_. Sophia is pooped ‘cause it ate Jasmine’s Barbie. It was sooo funny!”

 

“Yeah?” Face settled down against the pillows, Sophia’s head on his chest as she curled at his side. “Go on then Jonny, tell me what happened.”

 

Out in the corridor, Hannibal smiled. 

 

_____________________________

 

Three days later they were still at Brooke, and yet again Hannibal was sat waiting for Face to wake up. It was his ankle this time; they’d never done anything other than splint it before as he hadn’t been strong enough to repair the damage that had been done by walking around on it for two weeks. But now he’d had a long and intricate operation and had come back with his leg in plaster up to his knee. No one had said as much, but Hannibal knew he’d be lucky if it ever healed enough to let him back in the Rangers…

 

He sat in silence, letting that thought circle round and around his head. How would Face take that news? If he _did_ have to leave the job he loved? There was no doubt in Hannibal’s mind, if Face had to retire, then he would as well, at least from active service. He’d spent enough time away from his boy over the years, he certainly wasn’t going to endure any more, and maybe… just maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

 

He couldn’t help thinking back to the fear he’d felt when Face was missing, the way it completely froze him inside, he honestly hadn’t been so frightened in his entire life. Then there were the children, Sophia’s terror and Jonathan’s nightmares, it would certainly be a lot easier on them to have their dad around all of the time, he just wasn’t sure that Face would see it like that.

 

He sat staring at Face’s sleeping expression, glad to see him looking relaxed and pain free and mulled it all over in his head. As much as he knew it would be good for the children to have Face at home with them, he wasn’t sure how that extended to him. He’d always known it would be hard, to try and make their unusual family work, but until now it had all gone fairly smoothly. While Charisa was their Mommy, kept alive with photos and lanterns on her birthday as well as tears and flowers on Veteran’s Day, they had no issue with Adele being Momma. Similarly, Face was their dad; he was the one who drew the final lines, who went to Parent/Teacher night, who decided what birthday presents were allowed and so on. Hannibal had enjoyed the role of favoured Uncle, he joined in the child-care, helped with all the practicalities and fun, but was happy to let Face be the main decision maker where the children were concerned, and now he realised what an inspired agreement that had been.

 

He rubbed at his forehead to try and dislodge the stubborn headache that plagued him. Look what had happened as soon as he started making decisions about the children, as soon as Face had been unavailable to take on that role; it had been an utter disaster. He honestly couldn’t have loved either of those children any more if he’d fathered them himself, but he was left wondering what role he had in their lives, especially as Sophia’s trust in him had been so badly shaken.

 

The door opening behind him drew his attention and he looked up, surprised to see Adele smiling at him as she walked in. Murdock and BA had taken the children to Sea World for the day in an attempt to keep their minds off Face’s surgery and Hannibal had been sure that Adele would have gone with them. It wasn’t even three yet, surely they couldn’t be home already?

 

“How did it go?” Adele asked quietly, slipping into the other chair across from Hannibal and looking at Face’s cast.

 

“Fine,” Hannibal answered, surprised at the roughness in his voice. “Now we just need to wait and keep him off it. You back so soon?”

 

Adele laughed, a rumble that always reminded Hannibal of her son. “No, we won’t see them before dark! I didn’t go,” she shrugged, “figured they’d have more fun without me making the rules.”

 

Hannibal smiled ruefully, she certainly had a point.

 

He slid back into his thoughts, Adele a silent presence across from him, as he watched Face sleep off the anaesthetic.

 

“Hannibal?” the voice startled him and he blinked across the bed, realising he’d missed something.

 

“Sorry?”

 

“A coffee. Would you like one?” Adele was holding out a steaming stainless steel mug and Hannibal realised she’d brought a flask, he also realised he’d not eaten or drunk anything all day and so smiled, taking it gratefully whilst being careful not to splash it on the bed covers.

 

He sat and they sipped and then eventually, Adele spoke again. “What’s making you so down?” her voice was low, catching Hannibal a little by surprise and his eyes flicked up to meet hers, sipping the coffee to hide his discomfort.

 

“Nothing,” he lied, “I’m fine, it’s just,” he shrugged. “I’m tired that’s all.”

 

Adele watched him carefully. “I don’t think that’s all there is,” she told him gently and Hannibal could feel it all inside him, roiling around and threatening to explode, he put down his coffee and rubbed his face with two big hands, elbows on his knees.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

He heard the shuffling of chairs and the rustling of skirts and then Adele was sat at his side, a hand gently on his shoulder. “You’re fine because you just keep telling yourself you have to be. You think you have to be everyone’s rock, Face’s, Sophia’s, Jonathan’s, even Scooter and James. But who’s there for you, John? When it all starts to crumble?”

 

Hannibal could feel it, crumbling around him as he sat, but he didn’t know what to do about it.

 

“Sometimes it helps just to talk,” he wondered if Adele could read his mind. “Sometimes that’s all you need, just to unburden some of those thoughts.”

 

He stared at the pattern on the duvet through blurry eyes and wondered which of his thoughts he’d like to be free of the most. He thought it round and round, then, realising Adele was probably right, gave in. “I lied to Sophia,” he whispered, “and now she’ll never trust me again.”

 

That obviously had not been what Adele had been expecting. Hannibal heard her little intake of air and then the almost-laugh as she expelled it again. “Hannibal. I don’t think you have any idea just what that little girl thinks of you.”

 

He shook his head, right now he didn’t even want to know.

 

Adele laughed again. “She loves you,” she told him, her hand sliding across his tense shoulders. “She loves you so much, and since you brought her daddy home to her, well, you’re nothing short of her hero!”

 

Hannibal didn’t want to hear that. “But I lied to her,” he insisted, lifting his head to meet Adele’s eye. “I promised I’d bring him home and how could I have done that? How could I have ever promised that? What would I have done if it hadn’t happened?”

 

Adele shrugged. “What would any of us have done then? It would be too awful to contemplate.”

 

“But don’t you see? _I lied._ I made a promise I couldn’t keep!”

 

“Did you know you were lying? When you told her?”

 

Hannibal frowned. “Well, no, not really. I didn’t want it to be a lie, it was just something… something I didn’t have the power to make definite.”

 

Adele let out a long sigh and dropped her arm to grab Hannibal’s fingers in her own. “Don’t torture yourself over this, Hannibal,” she spoke softly. “You were trying to make it right for her, you wanted it to be true as much as she did. She’s not blind, she knows you love her daddy as much as she does, all you were telling her was that you were going to do your best.”

 

“But that’s not what I said.”

 

“It’s what you _meant_ ,” Adele said firmly, “and you meant it from the very bottom of your soul. And Sophia understands that.”

 

“She keeps looking at me strangely…” he muttered to the floor, not willing to let the conversation go yet, but feeling strangely like Face at his most churlish.

 

Adele squeezed his fingers. “Because she loves you and she’s worrying about you. You just look… so sad.”

 

Hannibal’s eyes flicked up. “I don’t want her to worry about me,” he breathed. “She’s enough on her plate as it is.”

 

“Well, leave it then. Believe me when I tell you, you haven’t hurt her, in her eyes you’ve saved her and she can’t understand why you aren’t throwing handstands right now.”

 

Casting a shifty look at the bed and then back to Adele, Hannibal steeled himself. “Well, it’s not just her,” he admitted, his voice low. “I wonder…” he shook his head. “I’m not sure…” he felt disloyal even _thinking_ these thoughts.

 

“You wonder whether his leg will heal enough for the Rangers to take him back?”

 

Hannibal met her eyes. “Yes.”

 

Adele let out a little sigh and let her eyes drift to Face. “What happened to him?” she asked. “How’d he get so hurt?”

 

Following her gaze, Hannibal stayed silent.

 

“I mean, I know you can’t say much, I don’t need details, I just need something to make sense of it all. He’s one of my boys too you know.”

 

Hannibal rubbed at his aching head again then let out a long sigh. “He was discovered. Knew he wouldn’t be able to get to safety, knew he’d never fight them all off so he led them away from us, as far as he could, before they caught up with him. There was still a fight, I don’t know exactly what happened but he’s never one to come quietly if he can help it.” Hannibal shook his head – that was the understatement of the year for sure. “That’s where he picked up the knife wound.

 

“Anyway. They took him up into the mountains, to a camp and… questioned him.” There was a pause as Hannibal stared at the bed cover deep in thought. Face hadn’t been too forthcoming about that part of his story either, but Hannibal knew him well enough to be able to read the whole story from the lines around his eyes, the marks of brutality on his body. He shook himself. “He knew they’d never let him go, knew it was unlikely we’d find him, so he bided his time and after a week his chance to run came. The ankle was broken falling down a cliff face just after he broke out of the camp…” Hannibal shook his head in wonderment. “He stayed ahead of them for two weeks, no provisions, no equipment, not even any water, only what he could find and all that with a broken ankle, leaking spleen and bust ribs.”

 

Adele reached out a hand a laid it on Face’s lax fingers. “My poor baby…” she whispered.

 

“We could have lost him. Finding him in the end was such a chance… a hair’s breadth and we’d have missed him…”

 

The silence fell again. Face shifted slightly under the covers but didn’t stir. Hannibal found his mind wandering back to what might have happened at that rock.

 

“Maybe he’ll _want_ to leave.” Adele’s voice startled him, he’d almost forgotten she was there, but he knew the truth of the matter.

 

“I don’t think so. He’s done that once don’t forget, walked away and he hated it, it was like he forgot who he was as a person.”

 

“That was slightly different though,” Adele countered. “And he has you now, the three of you and the kids. He’s his own person. Maybe, if he doesn’t get back, it’ll all be a relief for him.”

 

Hannibal sighed. Maybe, but he really didn’t think so. Instead he sat back in his seat, watched Face’s chest slowly rising and falling and waited for him to wake up.

 

_______________________

 

“I don’t need the wheelchair, boss!” Face groused as Hannibal hauled him out of the shotgun seat on the SUV outside the little white house in the suburbs.

 

“They said to stay off your leg.”

 

“I know! That’s why I have the crutches!”

 

“For emergencies only. Which this isn’t. Now shut up and sit down or I won’t suck you off later.”

 

Face muttered rebelliously under his breath but he did sit in the dreaded chair; it was lucky for Hannibal that he was more desperate for sex than he was for independence.

 

“So what we eating tonight then?” he asked as Hannibal wheeled him up the path. “Maybe we could get a takeout later on? The kids would like that.”

 

“Maybe,” Hannibal agreed and then nudged open the front door with his shoulder, edging the wheelchair in backwards over the step.

 

Face winced as the door frame skirted perilously close to his injured leg, than sat back again as Hannibal turned him around.

 

“Surprise!!!!!”

 

He actually jumped as the party poppers and streamers exploded all over him at the same time as the yell reached his ears.

 

“Surprise, surprise, surprise!” Jonathan’s eyes were wide like saucers as he jumped up and down on the wooden floor at Face’s side. “We got you a party, daddy! And we’ve got donuts and cake and chips!”

 

“And proper food too,” BA put in, swinging Jonathan upside down in his arms. “Welcome, home, brother.”

 

Face couldn’t speak. He blinked his eyes quickly to clear his vision and tried to swallow around the lump in his throat, but it wouldn’t budge. He could feel his face heating up but it was Sophia who came to his rescue. “Can I push?” she asked Hannibal gravely and he nodded, stepping out of the way as she carefully manoeuvred Face’s wheelchair into the family room out of the scrutiny of the others as Jonathan’s laughter continued in the hallway. “Look,” she said, turning him to towards the table which was almost sagging under the weight of all the food. “I made some bunting for you.”

 

She had. Lots of neat little triangles stuck side by side on a red ribbon which stretched across the room. Every triangle was decorated in a different style, all neatly coloured in with the message, “Welcome Home Daddy” running through them.

 

“It’s wonderful,” Face whispered, only just finding his voice, “Thank you.”

 

Sophia beamed and Face pulled her onto his knee so they could hug her tightly just as Jonathan careered into the room behind them. “Do you have the sword, daddy?” he shouted. “The one they stuck in your side? Do you get to keep it?”

 

Face frowned and wondered who on earth had told Jonathan that, getting his answer when a sheepish Murdock started sword fighting with Jonny using two of the balloons from the floor. From the kitchen a frantic beeping sounded and Adele gasped, rushing past them for the door. “Oh my goodness!” she breathed, “The crab patties!”

 

“Hey, fool! Watch what you’re doing!” BA snapped as Murdock crashed backwards into him, avoiding Jonathan’s parry. “You stood on my foot!”

 

A balloon exploded with a resounding bang and Sophia almost jumped out of her skin. “Jonny!” she shrieked, her voice ringing out over the melee, “Stop popping balloons! You know I hate it!”

 

“Pop!” Jonathan retaliated, “Pop! Pop! POP!” just as the smoke alarm joined the cooker’s beeping in the kitchen.

 

Face looked up and met Hannibal’s amused expression. “Glad to be home, kid?” Hannibal asked, one eyebrow lifted in question but Face just grinned at him.

 

“You bet I am, boss. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

 

Fin. For now.

 

 


End file.
